The Khaleesi and Her Lady
by butterflydarlin
Summary: "You treat me as a woman, not as an idea." "And you treat me a woman and not a slavegirl whore." A chronicle of the changing relationship between Daenerys and Doreah, largely in the Red Waste.
1. one

Overall disclaimer for everything: nope, none of this is mine. Just speculating or mildly AUing or however you choose to take it.

* * *

The first night after the dragons are born, before the khalasar has made to move on, Daenerys excuses herself early. Irri has fretted over her, soothing the burns that never appear on her skin, and Jorah murmurs contemplations until she raises a hand in protest. "Tomorrow," she says simply, and she gathers her skirts in her hand as if to leave.

"Of course, khaleesi," Jorah defers, and he rises to offer her a hand up. She declines it, though politely, and clambers to her feet with a wan smile.

When night falls, the others begin to splinter off; "Look in on her," Jorah instructs Irri, sounding like he might want to himself but supposes he shouldn't.

"I'll go," Doreah offers immediately, jumping up and nodding to Irri to hang back. The other handmaid is, after all, the busiest of them, forever doing for others. She deserves a chance to lay her head down quickly, and Doreah is glad to offer it.

They exchange politenesses before hurrying their own ways; Doreah thinks she catches a suspicious glance from Jorah, but nothing is discussed.

"Khaleesi?" she half-calls as she lets herself into the tent, almost hesitant. "Are you already asleep?"

A moment passes in silence, then, face still buried in her pillows, Dany murmurs, "Doreah?"

"Yes, Khaleesi," Doreah says quickly, drawing closer. "I did not wake you, I hope?"

"You did not," Daenerys assures. "I've had difficulties falling asleep of late, I'll admit."

"I imagine an empty bed would take getting used to," Doreah muses before she can think better of it, and once she realizes what she's said, she claps her hand over her mouth. "I'm – I'm sorry, Khaleesi, I did not mean to –"

Dany rolls over to meet her friend's eyes, still clutching the blanket to her. "You're right about that, though," she whispers. She wonders sometimes if Doreah can read her mind, she's surprised by how little it fazes her. "You needn't apologize."

"Shall I leave you to sleep?" Doreah asks weakly, still flushing.

"Not yet," Dany says, sitting up in bed. "Stay with me awhile." She pats a spot near her feet, eyes suddenly shining. "It will do me good, I think."

Doreah nods, still tentative, and sits in the proposed place. "Would you have me braid your hair?" she offers.

"May I braid yours?" Daenerys asks in counterpoint, sounding so much like a little girl. "I would like that very much."

Doreah has to try consciously not to show her surprise – not because her queen is not so generous or kind, she is, but because this simply isn't done.

_Wasn't_ done, she supposes.

"All right, then," she murmurs, and she turns to allow it.

It's quiet as Dany combs through her hair, working out each tangle carefully – and there are more than it would look. From the corner, one of the dragons coos, and both girls startle; "Does he need something?" Doreah asks, almost fretfully.

"More likely he's just waking for long enough to turn over and stretch his wings," Dany speculates. "They've different sounds for different feelings, like we do." She starts to section Doreah's hair off, thoughtful. "They're quite expressive creatures."

Doreah grins at that. "And they're quite handsome," she declares. "You should be very proud of them."

"I am," Daenerys agrees. "Thankful as well." There is no need to explain this further, and it hangs between them like smoke from incense, thick and almost tangible, until Dany asks, "Are you happy, Doreah?"

"Of course I am," is the reply, eager and hurried.

"Truly?" Dany presses, concerned.

"Khaleesi, I am freer here with you than ever before," Doreah whispers. "Freer in my soul. Yes, I am happy."

"And for that, I am glad," Daenerys nods, tying the braid off. "I want you to be."

Impulsively, or consolingly, or something such as, Doreah reaches for Dany's arms and arranges them around her own waist; Dany rests her head against Doreah's shoulder, her lips catching bare skin by accident, and if the other girl notices (of course she does) she doesn't say it.

"Would it be too much to ask you to stay all night?" Daenerys whispers.

"No," Doreah says quickly. "No, certainly not. I am glad to."

She makes to busy herself with arranging a place on the ground, but Dany pulls her blankets back and bites her lip. "If it is not too bothersome," she murmurs, and she finds she can't meet her handmaid's eyes.

"Certainly not," Doreah repeats, feeling suddenly shy herself. Gingerly, she slips under the covers.

"Please," Dany says. "Get as comfortable as you'd like."

Not to take her queen up on such an offer would be ungrateful, she knows, and – well. She keeps her hands to herself this time, or she starts to (she thinks perhaps she should) but after laying there a minute in silence, Dany reaches for her hand, pulls it over her waist.

So shall it be.

Doreah swallows – she can't ignore how warm she feels, nor how nervous – but she shifts a bit, her fingertips brushing the bare skin of Daenerys' belly. "Good night, Khaleesi," she whispers.

"Good night, Doreah."


	2. two

They have been in the waste for what feels like months (it's a week in truth) and the khalasar is starting to feel the effects. Food grows scarce, lips and skin grow chapped, and Daenerys grows edgy. She tries not to show it, of course, and many of her people would not think it, but those closest to her worry and bear the brunt of it simultaneously.

It becomes Irri's job more than ever to tell the khaleesi any hopeful thing she can, to run interference with the others as needed. Her bloodriders try to cheer her with stories of their own, but she cannot always bring herself to want their tales of battle and conquest. More than once (though not often) she snaps at Jorah.

And Doreah still finds herself coming into the khaleesi's tent every night, distracting her with massages and hair-playing and arms around her waist as they sleep.

Things keep up like this for what seems like ages; they lose a few people, they lose some hope. Only the dragons seem to flourish, riding in their basket-cages and on Dany's shoulders, growing and seeming to explore everything around them. Sometimes Doreah is permitted to hold them, and every time her heart swells with pride.

Yes, she is happy.

When they have lost track of days completely, a rash of sickness breaks out amongst the khalasar. Dear sweet Jhiqui is one of the first to fall ill, and she deteriorates so rapidly that there is barely time to pretend they could heal her. Daenerys calls them to a halt, almost immediately: she sits by her handmaid's side and paces outside of her tent and by nightfall, Jhiqui is gone.

When Doreah tiptoes into the tent that night, she hears Daenerys before she sees her. The khaleesi is sitting on the ground next to her bed, crying with her head in her hands, her knees drawn to her chest.

"Khaleesi," Doreah begins, like she always does. They've never discussed why they still play at this being spur-of-the-moment from night to night, but then, they've never discussed _what_ this is, either. She settles herself on the bed, close but not too close, and thinks how unusual this is. Even when the khal died, she did not see Daenerys like this; in a way, it's unnerving. "Ought I to go? Would you like to be alone tonight?"

Still crying, not speaking, Dany pushes herself off of the ground; she throws her arms around Doreah and sobs into her shoulder. Doreah startles, but she's quick to wrap her arms around Dany too, to rub her back soothingly. She murmurs soft nothings in the other girl's ear, she cradles her as she shudders and hiccups and wails.

"Khaleesi," Doreah repeats again. "It will be all right, it –"

Dany takes a breath, then before she can stop herself she's leaned in to kiss Doreah almost desperately, squeezing her eyes shut and moving a hand to the brunette's cheek. Doreah, for her part, kisses back by instinct, at least at first: it seems the most natural of things, unexpected and yet hardly surprising.

When Daenerys pulls back, gasping and blushing, Doreah moves to kiss the tears from her cheeks. Neither of them can think of what to say for a moment; they sit there, hands still idling on each other's bodies, just staring one another in shock.

"I – I am out of line," Dany whispers, belatedly dropping her gaze. "I should not have –"

"Daenerys," Doreah says tenderly. "My queen. You do not overstep." She lets her smile grow playful. "I'd like you to continue, if you would."

Dany blinks, suddenly retreating into shyness. "I would," she agrees, reaching for the other girl's hand. "Not now, perhaps, but soon."

"Of course," Doreah nods. She plants a kiss on Dany's cheek, tucks blonde hair behind her ear. "May I stay, though?"

"Of course," Daenerys echoes.

They take their places in bed, what have already become their usual places, though their bodies are pressed closer together than before and Doreah holds her queen a bit tighter about the waist; she leans close to Dany's ear to whisper, "You ought not to blame yourself, you know." For Jhiqui, for everything, for anything.

"There is nothing and no-one else to blame, really," Daenerys replies. "It only means I must swear over that I shall protect my people."


	3. three

During the days, which are naught but traveling, Doreah stays close to the khaleesi, and nobody thinks a thing of it. It is hers and Irri's to tend to her needs, it always has been, and it becomes Doreah's to help with the dragons, too. Nobody else save Daenerys can get close to them: they screech at most of the men, they flap their wings agitatedly at Irri.

During the nights, which are almost frantic resting, Doreah stays close to the khaleesi, and nobody thinks a thing of it. Not Jorah, but everyone else seems to keep another close in the waste: Rakharo and Irri have fallen together, though they say no such thing, and others roll their cots out near each other for safety and kinship alike.

Doreah does not press, but she knows that she and Daenerys are building to something.

One night when Doreah enters, Dany is waiting right there for her. Without even a hello, she flings her arms around the other girl and about attacks her with kisses.

"My," Doreah laughs. "An ambush, I see."

"Only a bit of one," Daenerys exclaims, giggling against Doreah's skin.

"Are you intending…?" Doreah asks softly.

Dany nods and she tugs Doreah toward the bed. "I am," she murmurs coyly, and she slips her robe off.

Taking the hint, Doreah undresses herself as well, dropping her clothes to the ground. "How would you like me?" she asks.

"However _you _would like to be," Dany says firmly. They both understand in this moment how this is supposed to play out, what it should and shouldn't be. A seduction, perhaps, but not a conquest.

So Doreah falls back against the covers and pulls Daenerys on top of her with a grin. "I like this," she declares, twining their fingers.

"Mm, all right," Daenerys hums, and she rolls her hips gently. "You're very beautiful, you know."

Doreah blushes and looks away for a moment. "You are too kind," she murmurs. She has heard it enough times that she doesn't believe it anymore, not really, but she trusts her queen's intentions.

Of course, Dany sees this doubt written in her face, and she wants to assure her of the truth, but another time, perhaps. Instead, she slides two fingers between the other woman's legs. "I remember my lessons," she whispers playfully, arching her back.

"I've many more I could teach you," Doreah smirks, biting her lip. "I think you'll like them."

"I'm sure of it," Dany giggles.

She works her fingers awhile, and they're silent save Doreah's increasingly needy moans. _Love comes in at the eyes_, Doreah had said, and they see everything that they need to reflected in one another's gazes.

As Doreah gets close, the moans heighten; she finds them matching to the little sighs escaping Daenerys' lips, and though it takes some concentration, she travels fingers to her queen's wrist. Sure enough, her pulse is racing, her skin is hot: she's ready, it would seem, to have her turn.

But one thing at a time: smile shifting from playful to tender and back, Daenerys focuses on Doreah's release, taking cues about what works best from the other woman's fevered whimpers. When Doreah comes, it starts slow and builds – she digs fingers into Dany's arm, squeezes her eyes shut just to concentrate on the sensation.

"Well," she pants, grinning foolishly. She pulls Dany off of her and into a cuddle, arms tight around her waist. "And a good evening to you, too, Khaleesi."

Daenerys beams proudly. "You are happy?"

"I am," Doreah whispers, and she moves to press a light kiss to Dany's lips, all affection. "I am the luckiest woman in Essos, I think."

"You needn't play at flattery," Daenerys mutters, blushing.

"I assure you I don't," Doreah says. "As a child, I thought my life was already decided. I had resigned myself to it. And now by some chance, I find myself here, where I could never have imagined."

"I cannot think any of us would have known we would be here," Dany murmurs, almost melancholy for a moment. "The circumstances are something from a story."

"And you its heroine," Doreah adds, smiling and hoping it catches on. "The brave, beautiful princess-khaleesi-queen, with all of the ambition and nobility you could ever need."

"And plenty of mysticism and romance thrown in the story, too," Dany chimes in mischievously. The light is back in her eyes.

"As befits such an epic," Doreah agrees. "Of course, even queens can stand to learn things once in a while, provided they are willing."

"I am," Daenerys exclaims. "I am very willing to learn from you."

Nodding decisively, Doreah sits up on her knees. "Lay on your back for me, Khaleesi," she instructs. "I intend this to be a lesson by example."

All Dany can do is position herself appropriately and mumble "yes" – any more, and she fears suddenly how silly she'll seem.

Doreah crawls down the bed, her smile growing. "Now, just trust me," she whispers, and she spreads the other woman's legs farther apart, stroking between them absently. "You're right to be excited, and you needn't be nervous. I promise you'll like this."

"You have not steered me wrong yet," Daenerys says.

A smirk, this one almost licentious, and Doreah adjusts her position, drops her head between her queen's legs. Before Dany can think to question, she feels Doreah's tongue between her folds; she trusts her, she does, but it startles her nonetheless. Startles her pleasantly, but.

She is not conscious of the sound she must have made, but Doreah clearly is; it must have been something, because the brunette lifts her head for just a moment, giggling, to softly chide, "Ssh, khaleesi."

Dany nods solemnly, biting her lips together, and Doreah resumes her lesson. She licks at Dany experimentally, trying to find which places suit her best, and listens for the necessary hints.

"Seven hells, Doreah," Daenerys mutters, clenching her jaw. She can be _quieter_, but hardly quiet.

Doreah hums her approval as she keeps at it, savoring the other woman's sweetness; when she's fairly certain Dany is about to lose it, she goes to kiss her bud, sucking and licking at it with purpose.

Dany gasps at that, and one of her hands flies to Doreah's shoulders, gently urging her on. Doreah, for her part, just smiles to herself and keeps at it, varying her speed and enjoying how it makes Dany whimper. This goes on for a little while, and then –

"Khaleesi?" comes Jorah's voice from outside the tent. Doreah rolls her eyes, Dany throws her head back against the pillows with a soft, frustrated groan. "Khaleesi, are you –"

Doreah sits up, presses a finger to her lips teasingly, then moves that finger between Dany's legs. "She is already asleep, ser," she calls out, stroking at Daenerys insistently; for her part, the blonde grabs idly for a scrap of fabric to stuff between her teeth and quiet her moans. "Shall I wake her? Is it urgent?"

She concentrates her attentions on Dany's swollen clit, grinning devilishly, and Dany cannot help but to moan and pray it is stifled enough not to give them away.

Outside, Jorah must be standing with arms folded, making a face. It's easy to imagine by the tone of his voice when he concedes, "I just thought we might discuss plans, but it is not pressing. Do not trouble her."

Doreah beams, eyes never leaving Dany's as she shouts, "I will tell her when she wakes. Good night, ser."

"Good night," he mutters, and once his retreat can be heard, Doreah pulls the fabric from her queen's mouth and slides down to finish her. She revels in the taste of her, the high, strained moans, the hand pressing on her shoulder.

Daenerys lies still for a full minute once she's come, recovering, and Doreah doesn't push; she lies down beside her, licking her lips, and waits with a smile.

"Yes," Dany says finally, smiling widely. "I enjoyed that lesson very much."


	4. four

When they've reached a mild enough spot, Daenerys nods to Jorah, just once – he understands.

"We make camp here," he calls to the khalasar, and everyone lets drop their things, settling into the surroundings as best they can. Kovarro hurries to pitch Daenerys' tent for her, Aggo to tether the remaining horses; after seeing to her dragons, Dany helps as much as she's allowed (it isn't much, but it's something) and offers smiles to anyone who looks to need one.

The night is busy, and Doreah is already waiting for her when she enters the tent. "I thought you would never be mine tonight," she teases, stepping away from the dragons' cages.

Daenerys rolls her eyes playfully. "There are many things to tend to," she says, voice barely above a whisper. She goes to Doreah, smiling shyly. "Are they resting, then?"

"Peacefully as they are able," Doreah confirms. She brushes a hand down Dany's throat, frowning. "You are unwell, Khaleesi?"

"I sound much worse than I feel," Dany corrects. "I'm a bit hoarse, but nothing more than that."

"Let me take care of you," Doreah declares, and it makes the other girl blush.

"You always take care of me," comes the reply, even quieter than the rest.

"And you take care of all of us." Insistently though carefully, Doreah tugs Daenerys toward the bed and nudges her down, lying prone with her arms at her sides. "Even queens need to let someone else shoulder the burdens awhile."

When she straddles Dany's hips, Dany whimpers, turning her head to one side. "I could not ask it –" She interrupts herself with a little sigh as Doreah digs thumbs into her shoulders, her hands curling into fists. "Oh, gods," is the only coherent thing she manages to get out.

"The tension you carry will never cease to amaze me," Doreah murmurs, chuckling as she kneads her hands down Daenerys' spine.

"Your – your hands will never cease to amaze _me_," Daenerys breathes, shutting her eyes and arching just enough to show Doreah where to focus. "They're too –"

"Too what, Khaleesi?" Doreah chirps. "Skilled? Tempting, perhaps?"

Dany moans softly. "Both of those and more," she insists. "You are unlike anyone I've known."

"I hope that's not just because of what I do to you in here," Doreah laughs.

"Oh, no." Dany shifts again – being completely still is sometimes hard for her in these moments – and smiles. "It's for many reasons, Reah. It's because you're so good to me." She stops for a moment, and Doreah can imagine the way she's chewing on her lip. "Why _are _you so good to me?"

"Khaleesi?" Doreah murmurs, taken aback. "I – it is right, you are my queen."

"But you treat me as more than that," Daenerys whispers. "You treat me as a woman, not as an idea."

With a silent sigh, Doreah pushes Dany's hair aside and kisses her throat. "And you treat me a woman and not a slavegirl whore," she points out. "I am good to you as you are good to me."

Without looking back, Dany reaches for the other girl's hand, stilling it a moment. "Thank you, Reah," she says softly, her eyes beginning to flutter closed.

"Ssh now," Doreah murmurs, after a moment adding, "Rest your voice, Dany." It's almost tentative – she is still wary of such things – but she sees the blonde break out smiling as she nods.

"I promise," she mouths, and Doreah beams and taps her khaleesi's lips before continuing to pamper her.


	5. five

They have not been carrying many things, little save what is needed, but settling themselves into Xaro Xhoan Doxos' estate is still a time-consuming process, one that gets many of Daenerys' people cranky. This place does not suit the Dothraki, who seem and feel at odds with the overwrought splendor, and this is no home to Daenerys. She does not take comfort in the stone walls or decadence beyond the comfort of having found shelter and respite. The invitations she finds herself denied and then bombarded with unnerve her, the flattery sits uncomfortably with her.

Irri does not belong here: she is like most of the khalasar in that way. She is distrustful of this foreign city, though she will appear to trust if her khaleesi says so. Jorah paces the halls with a suspicious look on his face; he is distrustful of everyone. Daenerys reads it as protectiveness, Doreah as overprotective paranoia. (Dany also doesn't see the way Jorah looks at her, or she pretends not to, while Doreah very much does and bristles at it. Jorah sees Daenerys as an idea.)

It is, just as before, Doreah's to teach the necessary coquetries, the necessary ways of engaging these strangers. This society is not hers, but it is close to the one she was taught to ingratiate herself to.

Irri has become suspicious, too, of what goes on in the khaleesi's bed; more than once she's caught looking askance at the other women, and though Daenerys smiles and brushes it off, Doreah has come to raise her eyebrows right back.

"Is something the matter, Irri?" she always asks.

"Nothing," Irri always says in return, but they all know it's never nothing.

They make ready the gifts that have been given: most, not all, for the Mother of Dragons, shows of esteem that have not yet worn thin.

"Men like to talk about other men when they're happy," Dany giggles as they prepare, reciting her handmaid's teachings, and Irri pulls a face, doubtful.

"What do you want of her, Khaleesi?" she asks under her breath.

"She knows," Daenerys shrugs.

Doreah is to do nothing _she_ does not want, it has been said between them. Tease and play, certainly, but these strangers are not entitled to her body if she does not want to give it.

She doesn't. Her body is already in thrall, it is known.

They help Dany into her new dress, Irri waves them off to the party. Both Dany and Doreah bat their eyelashes every which way at the party guests; they do not speak, but they bat their eyelashes at each other, too, when nobody else will care. They smile and socialize and play along.

Daenerys disappears for hours, and Doreah blinks sweetly at more and more of the guests. To her surprise, she feels her heart in her throat more acutely the longer her khaleesi is gone; her nerves heighten when she sees Xaro is disappeared as well, when she sees Jorah stalk off, and she tries in vain to tamp it down. Her smile grows wider, more playful, more fake; she bestows parting kisses on a pair of merchants who have monopolized her for half an hour or more.

She can't make sense of what she's feeling, and she's not sure she wants to.

The girls keep separate quarters here (it is only fitting) and Doreah thinks perhaps she ought to use hers tonight. She is less needed here, she suspects. It was easier to pretend out in the sand and sun.

She's pulling the braids from her hair, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror, when there comes a knock at the door and a soft voice calling out, "My lady?"

Quickly, Doreah is at the door, wide-eyed. "I am no lady, Khaleesi," she hisses, ushering the blonde in. she is afraid, tonight more than before, of ruining things simply by being here, by continuing to be with Dany in these ways they cannot explain.

Daenerys shakes her head, eyes almost glistening. "But you are," she whispers. "You are my lady, Doreah."

She throws her arms around the other girl's waist, sighing loudly; Doreah knows in this moment that something is weighing on both of them tonight, though she cannot know what. She buries her face in Dany's hair, her eyes shutting, and they stand like this for minutes and minutes.

What are they? Ought it to matter?

Finally, Doreah brushes a hand down Dany's cheek; her expression softens, she swallows her worries and puts her lips to Dany's.

"My lady," Daenerys repeats.

"Your lady," Doreah echoes, feeling the words fall off of her tongue.

"Mine," Dany murmurs, insistent and gentle all at once.

Doreah nods slowly. "I am yours, my queen, of course."

"And I yours," Dany adds, barely audible. She wants to have, but to be had at the same time; she wants to willingly give herself, or to make it known that she has, and to know it is willingly returned.

Another nod, more hesitant and almost awed. "Khaleesi," Doreah says, filling the air between them.

Without another word, Daenerys falls to her knees. She hikes Doreah's skirt up, asking with wide eyes, "May I take you, my lady?"

Tentatively, Doreah threads fingers in the other girl's hair. "Please, Dany," she whispers.

A willing reversal.

Drawing a breath, Dany nudges Doreah's knees a bit farther apart and buries her face in her handmaid's sex. She has _certainly _learned, Doreah notes; she is intent and tender all at once.

Doreah can count on her hands the times she's had this done to her: daughters of the pleasure houses, no matter how skilled, are rarely given such pleasure without strings.

"Your Grace," she murmurs, tugging at a handful of blonde hair gently. She is teaching herself the Westerosi addresses, or trying to normalize them amongst the others; many of the khalasar may never learn but it is important to her to belong to any of the worlds Daenerys finds herself in, however she can.

The longer Dany works, the more acutely she feels her own longing beginning to grow: more than anything, though, she needs _this_, the taste of Doreah in her mouth and the soft moans falling from Doreah's lips.

"Gods, Dany," she sighs, letting her head fall against the wall heavily. "_Right _there, I –"

She interrupts herself with a groan as she bucks against her queen's mouth; she can sense release beginning in her belly, and Daenerys' tongue on her clit, licking with purpose, makes her bite back an absolute wail and grip the other girl's pale shoulders.

Daenerys hums against Doreah's sex, her eyes shut tightly; her fingers press into Doreah's hips as if to urge her on.

"_Yes_," the brunette cries. "Yes, Khaleesi, _please_."

She is a good queen, attentive to the needs of others, and it's not long before she's bringing Doreah to orgasm, shrieking with abandon.

She about collapses once she's come, falling into Dany's lap and snuggling close, and Dany wraps arms around her loosely and smiles.

"Thank you," she says against Doreah's hair.

Doreah just laughs. "I'd think I should be the one thanking you," she replies.

"In a way," Dany murmurs, a shadow crossing her face. "No matter. I'm glad you're pleased."

She'd like to think she knows that expression, or at least knows to worry upon seeing it. "Is everything all right, Dany?" she asks carefully.

"I hope so," Daenerys says quietly. "Shall we retire? I don't want to talk just now."

"Of course," Doreah says, climbing to her feet and pulling the blonde up with her. "Whatever you need."

Dany wipes at her mouth, then goes to kiss Doreah's cheek lightly. "Thank you, moon of my life."


End file.
